


And We Are Beginning

by callmejude



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-25 21:30:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmejude/pseuds/callmejude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>written for the prompt "Between Stacker sending an already injured Newt to Hannibal and Newt arriving on the streets of Hong Kong, there is a period in which a quite shaken Hermann, who is still shocked by how close Newt has come to frying his own brain, becomes quite clingy and tells Newt not to go.</p><p>The argument of "Stacker ordered it" finally makes Hermann give in, but still, dude, Newt had no idea Hermann could be this scared for him!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"You cannot _possibly_ expect him to _do it again,_ " Hermann explodes suddenly. Newton and Pentecost both jump, which Hermann has never seen either of them do before. Newton blinks. Pentecost turns to look at him.

"Excuse me, Dr. Gottlieb?"

Hermann realizes himself and drops his gaze, but stands his ground despite himself, "Sir, he - he almost _died._ You - he can't do it again, the neural overload would kill him. Or worse." He swallows awkwardly and adds, "His findings will be of no use to us if he dies before he can share them."

Pentecost frowns at him. "I do not appreciate my logic being dismissed, Dr. Gottlieb. I agree that it is a risky situation but if you have a better idea, I suggest you share it."

Hermann doesn't, but he opens his mouth anyway. He's never done so without thinking his words through, and he stumbles. "I...I don't..."

"I thought so," Pentecost says firmly. There's a trace of sympathy in his face, in his voice, but he will not bend on this. He simply can't. There are no other options. Newton isn't looking at either of them, instead idly flipping the card Pentecost had handed him a moment ago in his hands.

"Gentlemen," Pentecost says after a moment, his voice solemn. He shuts the door behind him as he leaves.

Hermann tries again, this time to Newton directly. "You can't. You - you'll be killed by black market scavengers before you can even kill yourself in a second Drift."

"Hermann -"

"I'm not going to let you," he says, startling himself. Newton stares at him, then laughs.

"You're - what're you gonna do? Knock me out with your cane?"

Hermann looks down at his cane, contemplating. Newton stands up. "Dude, it was a joke, and if you hit me with that thing I'm gonna rip it out of your hand and knock you over."

Hermann gapes at him. Newton shrugs, unapologetic, but then he sighs. "I gotta go. I can't disobey a direct order. Especially not one that's gonna save mankind."

"You're still bleeding," Hermann says, looking at the floor. "You were seizing on the floor less than two hours ago and you're still bleeding and you're going to go traipsing around the bloody bone slums of Hong Kong so that you can do it again."

"There's no other -"

"Just give me some time, Newton, I can think of something."

Newton doesn't have anything to say to that. For a minute he just stares, then finally, "According to your findings we don't really have a lot of time to give."

"That's not fair," Hermann answers, his voice suddenly small. He doesn't even know what he means by it. Judging by the look on Newton's face, he doesn't either. He tries again, "It's - you'll _kill yourself._ "

Newton is starting to look increasingly bewildered. He's used to arguing with Hermann, but not on subjects such as his own health. When he speaks again his voice has gone from its normal obnoxious tone to soft and hesitant, as if he's trying to talk to a frightened child. "I made it out the first time all right," he says, smirking.

" _No, you didn't!_ " Hermann doesn't mean to shout, but the memory in his head is sudden and vivid, and something tightens in his chest. Newton takes a step back, shocked. He looks like he's finally listening, so Hermann continues, "You made it out through a damn _miracle_ and have probably suffered severe internal trauma! You are _not_ all right and you are _not_ doing it again!"

There's silence for almost a minute. Newton clears his throat.

"Hermann, I have to go," he takes a deep breath and waves his arms, "Not to overblow it but the fate of the world kind of depends on it."

It makes Hermann laugh, a little hysterically. He leans over to steady himself on the chair Newton had been sitting in a moment ago. Concerned, Newton closes the distance between them, and Hermann reaches out and grabs the back of Newton's neck instead. 

Newton flails to keep his balance. "Jesus, man, are you okay?"

 _No,_ Hermann wants to say. _No, you almost died and as sad as it is, if I lose you I have no one._ "Don't leave," he says instead. Before Newton can insist that he has to he adds without thinking, "I'll go. I can go, just stay here."

Newton looks horrified at the implication, and Hermann thinks he may finally understand the situation Hermann is in. "You can't go," Newton says, "What if Hannibal Chau is some kind of psycho?"

"You see my point, then," Hermann insists.

Newton shakes his head. "Dude, I can run."

"That's -" This argument is ridiculous and circular and Hermann doesn't care anymore. He knows the fate of the world depends on this one stupid thing and for some entirely unknown reason it has to be Newton to do it - no one else on this godforsaken _planet_ is as stubbornly _moronic_ as he is, and he may very well die, but for the good of the rest of the world, which is begrudgingly important.

He nods, defeated. "Right," he says finally, "You're right." He feels Newton's back straighten, and looks up to see him grinning. It takes him a moment to realize he's never told Newton he's right before. Of course he would still find the time in all this madness to care about something like that. Of _course._

"You absolute _idiot_ ," Hermann hisses, leaning forward and pulling Newton into a kiss. Newton grabs his arms suddenly, as if he thought he was falling the split second before he kissed him. Then he freezes, goes entirely rigid, and Hermann doesn't know what to do, so he pulls back.

Newton stares at him like a deer in the headlights. the drying blood running down to his lip has smeared over his face. Hermann licks his lips instinctively and grimaces at the old penny taste in his mouth.

"Okay," Newton says after an eternity of about five seconds. "So that answers about as many questions as it raises."

Mortified, Hermann takes a deep breath through his nose and pinches his mouth shut. He looks down, but Newton is still gripping his arms rather tightly and he can't step away. 

"Is that it?" Newton asks, his voice only lightly teasing, "C'mon Hermann, this could be the last time you ever see me."

Hermann jerks at that, but Newton's stronger than he looks. "That isn't funny, Newton, please don't joke that way."

"I'm not joking," Newton says seriously. "I mean, about the death part - hopefully, I guess, but -"

Hermann kisses him again, if only to shut him up, and Newton finally lets go of his arms. Hermann feels him jump up onto the balls of his feet, one hand tugging down on the collar of his shirt.

With a yelp, Hermann falls forward, and Newton pulls back to keep him steady, looking sheepish. "Sorry, dude, you're like, way taller than me, so I..."

He trails off, embarrassed, and for some unknown reason, that makes Hermann smile. Newton swallows, looks around, and then jolts past Hermann to hop up onto his desk. Hermann squawks. "Wh-what're you doing?"

"Well I know you don't like me on your side or anything but I figured you wouldn't wanna make out on my desk, what with all the slime and guts everywhere. Besides, I'm not disrupting anything, am I?" 

But of course he is. He wouldn't be Newton Geiszler unless he were disrupting something. He sits with his hands latched onto the edge of the desk between his legs, kicking his feet so that his heels tap loudly against the wood. He's going to scuff Hermann's desk that way. "You gonna kiss me goodbye or what?"

Hermann frowns, feeling his stomach twist nauseatingly at his words. "Newton, please don't - don't say that." Whatever the look is on Hermann's face, Newton seems to regret his word choice. He reaches out and tugs on the bit of Hermann's sleeve that he can reach.

"C'mere," he says, instead of 'sorry'. Hermann lets himself be led until he's standing in front of him. "Try again," Newton says, "I won't knock you over this time, see?" Newton straightens his back as far as it'll go, expectant.

"You're not doing this to - to toy with me are you?"

Hermann doesn't think he's ever seen Newton look more offended in his life, and he instantly feels foolish for asking. "Dude, what kind of asshole do you think I am? I - look, you're probably the most consistent relationship I've had in my life so I just -"

Hermann doesn't care why, and they're running out of time. He covers Newton's mouth with his own and returns a hand to the back of his neck, tipping his face toward him. Newton responds, slow and passive, and Hermann doesn't know what he expected but it isn't this. Newton's hands are clenching in Hermann's sweater vest and Hermann catches himself wishing he weren't wearing so many layers.

While his form is different from what Hermann thought it would be, he finds comfort in the fact that like with everything else, Newton isn't capable of keeping quiet as Hermann's kissing him. He doesn't talk, because he can't, but many of the soft little noises he's pushing into Hermann's mouth sound as if they're trying to be words, anyway. Pleased and warm and excited.

At a loss of what else to do, Hermann takes charge, which Newton seems to appreciate. He groans when Hermann sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, lets out a breath when he slides his tongue into his mouth with most likely more force than entirely necessary. Newton seems to like it, regardless.

He doesn't realize he's leaning Newton backward until he squeals, one hand letting go of Hermann to flail out and catch himself against the desk. "Hermann," he says against his mouth, "Hermann, I have to go."

"No," Hermann argues, turning to Newton's neck, gently biting where he sees Newton's tattoos peaking out from his collar. "Stay here," he says against his skin, "Don't - I don't want -"

"I'm gonna be fine," Newton says reassuringly, and Hermann ignores him, going back to his mouth. It made him stop talking before it'll make him stop again.

It doesn't. Newton pulls his head back, keeping the distance between them. "I'll come back," he says, "I promise."

He can't promise that. It's a foolish thing to say because he could die - it's very likely that he will - and all he's doing now is lying. But before Hermann can argue, Newton grins at him.

"And when I get back, we can finish where we left off, okay?"

Hermann sighs. There's no argument left in him. He leans his forehead against Newton's and nods.


	2. Chapter 2

Several hours later, when they're both in the helicopter headed back to the Shatterdome, Hermann grabs him. Neurons are still firing like crazy, and every touch feels like sparks going off in his head. He pulls Newton into his lap.

"I'm crushing -"

"It's fine."

"No it isn't, it _hurts_ , Jesus _Christ!_ "

Hermann feels a mixture of guilt and embarrassment for trying to hide it with Newton still in his head, but he can’t care about that now. Time's running, always running - they might not even make it in time. They might lose. "Newton, please I just -" He shifts Newton in his lap and holds him close. "You promised, please."

Newton falls still, quiet for a moment. He’s still trembling, aftershock from the drift, and Hermann remembers earlier - Newton shaking and bloody and dazed as Pentecost told him to do it again. He doesn’t say anything, but Hermann hears it anyway. _I could’ve died._

Instead, he says, “You were right.”

“Which time?”

“You didn’t let me,” Newton answers. “Not alone, anyway.”

Hermann looks at his shoes.

It’s awkward, holding a grown man to your lap when you have a bad leg, but Hermann doesn’t care, and Newton doesn’t try to pull away again. Something about it is calming, soothing - they need all of that they can get. Hermann feels Newton doze off against his neck for a few minutes, and wonders how much sleep he’s had in the past two days.

It hadn’t even been five this morning when he’d found Newton on the floor of the lab, and since then he’s been running on pure luck and coffee. He probably hadn’t even slept the night before. The more Hermann thinks about it, the more exhausted he realizes he is. 

Newton jolts awake as the helicopter lands, on his feet so fast Hermann has a hard time believing he was asleep at all. He grabs Hermann’s hand as he stands up, holding it as they run out onto the landing pad. 

They don’t stop touching until Becket breathes. Even then, it’s only for a minute.

A makeshift party erupts within seconds, loud and excited and busy, and Newton sits down in Tendo’s abandoned chair and pulls Hermann onto his lap.

Hermann grunts in protest. If Newton in _his_ lap had been awkward the opposite will only be worse, but Newton is disheveled and sleepy and Hermann can still feel him, bits and pieces of his thoughts and feelings, that warm soothing calm from before. He slides into Newton’s lap and folds over him, protective. 

_Never again,_ he thinks wildly, _nothing is ever going to hurt you again._

He can feel Newton wanting to argue, wanting to tease him for thinking such an irrational thing, but he doesn’t let him. Instead, he bows into a kiss, his hands clenching in Newton’s hair and holding his head still. 

He feels Newton’s hands settle on his hips, feels heat flare up the back of his neck almost immediately after. He can tell what Newton’s thinking and his head swims a little. He’s still acutely aware of the fact that they’re in a crowded room full of everyone they know, but Newton doesn’t seem to mind that particular detail at all.

Images flood his mind that have to all be Newton’s fault. Newton ripping his clothes off in the hall, falling into Newton’s bunk together, Hermann riding him in this very chair, clothes barely off as the others around them slowly start to notice because they can’t keep quiet, can’t go slow, can’t stop.

“Jesus, Newton,” Hermann breaks the kiss, catching his breath dazedly against Newton’s shoulder. “I’m - that is not going to happen in this chair.”

“While I’m unaware of the specifics of this conversation,” Hermann hears Tendo laugh as he comes up to turn off the computers, “I feel like I have to thank you, anyway.”

Hermann shuts his eyes, too embarrassed to look Tendo in the face. He feels Newton turn his head, unashamed. “Geez, the two of you are entirely lacking in artistic vision.”

He sounds a little winded. Hermann smiles, despite himself. That’s because of him.

“Not when it’s in my chair, man,” Tendo answers, but his tone is light, obviously teasing. “Even _I_ never used it for anything other than sitting.”

“Well, snooze you lose,” Newton answers, and Hermann can practically hear Newton sticking out his tongue or doing something equally immature.

“If I catch you two defacing my poor chair I’m gonna come tip it over with the two of you in it.” Tendo jokes, “If y’all wanna get kinky, move over to Frank’s seat.”

Tendo must walk away after Newton laughs at that, because a moment later, his voice drops. “You liked the idea, didn’t you?”

Hermann doesn’t know why he shakes his head. Newton can still tell exactly what he’s thinking. “You may not want to do it, sure, but the idea’s still got you all flustered. You’re blushing.”

“I am _not-_ ”

Newton cuts him off, ignoring his protests. “Is it the fact that we’re in public? Maybe the thought that we were still mostly clothed? Is it just that you wanna ride me in a chair? The combination of the three?”

Hermann shudders. “Newton,” he says. He means for it to sound like a warning, but it comes out more like a plea. He swallows to try again, but his throat’s gone dry, and the second time it’s barely a rasp against his neck.

One of Newton’s hands toys gently with the hair at the nape of Hermann’s neck. “You wanted to fuck me against your desk, didn’t you? Before I left.”

“Yes.” The word comes out easily, before he can even think to stop it. He thinks of Newton pressed flat against his desk, colours on his skin standing out stark against the dark, glossy wood. He thinks of strong, inked legs wrapped around his waist, nails biting into his skin. Those same soft, warm noises coming out of Newton’s mouth.

He doesn’t consciously notice that their thoughts are still connected until he hears Newton groan. 

Hermann feels his stomach flip, lets his mind wander to see how far he can take it. He pictures slamming Newton into his chalkboard, gagging him with his own stupid tie, fucking into him with hard steady strokes without touching him, waiting to hear him begging and pleading around the tie in his mouth.

“God, Hermann,” His hand clenches tight in Hermann’s hair, “I - yes, please…”

It would surprise Hermann to think like this if he would stop to realize it, but he doesn’t, too focused on how it causes Newton to react. He pictures holding Newton’s hands behind his back, holding his face down against against the mattress as he fucks him, and Newton whines, bucking up against him.

“Be still, Newton.”

“ _Christ-_ ”

“And quiet,” Hermann hisses in his ear. He feels Newton shiver and nod.

Hermann searches his mind, listening to Newton’s breathing. He thinks of tying Newton down, feeling the hand at his left hip tighten its grip in his slacks. He tilts Newton’s face up, leans into a kiss, his hands tugging at Newton’s hair.

He thinks of riding Newton with his hands wrapped around his throat, holding him down against the bed. He feels Newton gasp against his mouth and kisses him harder. 

Hermann feels dizzy. He didn’t even realize he could have these thoughts but now they’re flooding every sense he has. He pictures leaving scratches and bitemarks in Newton’s skin, tattoos hiding all the evidence like secrets between them. 

He thinks of holding Newton in his lap, moving him slow and steady until he’s keening, running his tongue over the lines of his tattoos.

Newton’s head falls back against the chair. His eyes are glazed and his skin feels too hot against Hermann’s chest. “Careful,” Hermann whispers. 

He places a kiss against Newton’s jaw and thinks of curling around him in the dark and burying his face in his neck. He thinks of sharing showers and going out to dinner. He thinks of tracing his fingers over where he’s memorized the lines of each garish kaiju are over his shirt as he works.

Newton lets go of Hermann’s neck and loosens his tie. Hermann reaches up to stop him but Newton quickly fumbles through the first few buttons on his shirt and grabs Hermann’s hand before it can grab his, pulling it to his chest.

Hermann blinks. He thinks about pulling away, but it’s such a soft, innocent thing. He can feel Newton’s heart thrumming just under his fingers. Newton drops the grip on his wrist to place his hand back against Hermann’s neck and push him into another kiss, slow and lazy as if he’s had too much to drink.

Letting his hand slide over Newton’s collarbone, he scratches gently down his chest until he hears him gasp. He wants to unbutton the shirt further, but something about the way Newton hadn’t makes him leave it as it is.

He strokes Newton’s neck, over his shoulder, down the collar and over his spine before going back again, nails dragging over his skin. He’s starting to feel Newton trembling with the effort it’s taking him to stay still, and Hermann pulls away from him, fascinated. Newton whines, barely a breath, and reaches for him.

This is most likely the longest Newton has ever gone without speaking, at least in front of Hermann. He still says nothing, merely tugs gently on the collar of Hermann’s shirt, craning his neck. Hermann complies, taking Newton’s mouth in his own.

With one hand still pressed against Newton’s chest and the other buried in his hair, Hermann thinks of this moment, of Newton shaking underneath him, clinging to him as he forces himself still and silent. Hermann thinks of Newton coming, and he feels Newton’s body go tense, his heart speed up. 

He swallows a sharp cry from Newton’s mouth before the kiss breaks, Newton sagging forward and curling into Hermann’s chest. Hermann expects him to sit back after a moment, but he doesn’t, wrapping his arms around Hermann’s middle and holding him closer. Hermann idly runs his hand through Newton’s hair and waits for him to catch his breath.

“Mr. Choi is going to be very disappointed in us,” Hermann says after a moment.

Newton laughs. He sounds a lightheaded. “I’ll buy him a new chair.”

**Author's Note:**

> title from "In Our Bedroom After the War" by Stars


End file.
